


And Honour the Love You Have

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst and Feels, Blasphemy, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Community: hc_bingo, Crisis of Faith, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort Bingo Round 10, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, No Smut, No obvious romance, Protective Crowley, Relationship open to interpretation, Threat of Falling, hand holding, they belong together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 17:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: Witnessing a casual act of homophobia is the last straw for the Aziraphale, sending him into a spiral of rage, doubting his faith and questioning God. Crowley tries to calm him, desperate to prevent Aziraphale from Falling. And then God intervenes and both angel and demon are surprised by the outcome.For the hurt/comfort bingo prompt "crisis of faith"





	And Honour the Love You Have

Aziraphale was more enraged than Crowley had ever seen him. He had borne witness to the Flood, the Crucifixion, The Great War, the Second World War, and countless other events and managed to retain his belief in goodness and in the ineffable plan.

Yet today, one small event had tipped the balance. The myriad horrors, large and small alike had accumulated until, like the straw that broke the camel's back or the drop that burst the dam, this latest occurrence had breached even Aziraphale's tolerance.

They'd been out to lunch and on the way back to the bookshop seen a teenager scream a homophobic insult at another young man and throw his slushie at him, before running across the road to join two other men. The victim of the abuse had lowered his gaze, tears welling up in his eyes. He tugged at his sleeves, trying to cover more of himself, flipped his hood up, desperate to hide from the world.

Aziraphale had snapped his fingers twice. The red stain vanished from the hoodie. The other teenager, laughing at his bravado with his friends found himself suddenly sprawled on the floor, face lying in a puddle. His friends found this as hilarious as his bullying.

Aziraphale quickened his pace, Crowley lingering behind. "You shouldn't listen to him," Aziraphale told the young man in the hoodie. "Your sexuality is none of his business and nothing to be ashamed of."

The hood bobbed in silent agreement and then the teen ducked inside a café.

"He might not even be gay," Crowley commented, sauntering up to rejoin Aziraphale. "It's just another way to hurt someone, claim something is bad and then accuse anyone you want of being that bad thing. I've seen boys like that yell 'virgin' at each other as an insult."

"It's disgusting!" Aziraphale didn't say another word until they got back inside. He left the sign saying 'closed', and began to pace the room angrily.

"You know, you should have let me deal with the mouthy one," Crowley said. "I'm a demon. Punishing people's my job."

"Angels may be vengeful," Aziraphale said.

"Yeah, but aren't there specific angels for that?" Crowley was becoming increasingly concerned. "I've been out of the loop for a while but I don't think all angels go around smiting people. And aren't you only supposed to dispense heavenly justice?"

"Who decides what is heavenly approved justice? Michael? Gabriel?"

Aziraphale had a point.

"I'm just saying if you start using your miracles to cause harm you're going to get noticed." Which was the last thing they needed. They'd been left alone since the not-apocalypse and the subsequent attempts to execute them.

"I will use my miracles as I please, God willing or not!" Aziraphale was, Crowley noticed, glowing, literally incandescent with rage.

"Don't," Crowley begged. "Don't say that. You can't question God. That's how you Fall. Don't risk that over such a trivial incident."

"Trivial? It wasn't trivial to the young man who felt ashamed and abused! It knocked his low self-confidence. I felt his pain and self-loathing!"

Crowley nodded, desperately trying to think of ways to calm Aziraphale. "I'm not saying it wasn't horrible for him. I'm just saying it's a tiny moment of nastiness in the grand scheme of things. We've seen worse."

"Who are you to say what is worse?" Aziraphale's anger included Crowley and the demon involuntarily shrank back from the rage and almost blinding light of Aziraphale's aura. "Demons! Your kind revel in pain!"

That was too far. "Not me," Crowley protested. "I'm all practical jokes and stupid inconveniences and taking credit for the crap humans come up with all by themselves! I've never killed anyone! Not directly. Well, Ligur but he wasn't human!"

Aziraphale waved this away with one hand, blue eyes burning with anger. "All pain is pain."

"I suppose so?" This was a little more philosophical than a mostly sober Crowley was prepared for on a Monday afternoon.

"Why must pain exist? Why must people suffer? Why must we suffer? Why aren't we supposed to be together? How could angels seek to kill one of their own with Hellfire? How can destroying the world be part of the ineffable plan? The rainbow was supposed to be a sign of hope! It's a goddamned lie!" Aziraphale's wings sprouted, knocking over a small table and spilling books onto the floor.

These were dangerous thoughts and terribly dangerous words for an angel.

Aziraphale was lost in a spiral of rage and doubt and Crowley was lost as to how to help. He shook his head desperately. "No, no, it's a lovely thing, the rainbow, all those colours!"

"It's only a promise not to flood the damn planet again! Nothing about destroying it in other ways! It took a child and a demon to save us from the apocalypse!"

"You were there too, Aziraphale! I couldn't, almost certainly wouldn't have been there, let alone come up with that last ditch scheme without you! You convinced Adam just as much as I did!"

Aziraphale shook his head. The light around him had taken on a worrying purple hue. His wings looked, in this new light, grey.

"It wasn't even a win. It was a postponement of doomsday. It's like...like building the most wonderful model village, spending years painting every house and shop, making a tiny park with miniature trees, plumbing in water, adding tiny electric street lights and a model railway, and having little creatures - ants, let's say - move in and live there and enjoy their wonderful home." Aziraphale bent over to speak to the imaginary ants. "Hello, little ants, isn't this lovely, thank your Creator for this blessed place." He straightened up, snapped his fingers, making one of the lights above spark and go out. "And then setting fire to it for no reason! With the ants still inside! Because why not!"

Crowley whipped off his glasses and shoved them in his top pocket. "Aziraphale, I know you're upset but please. You're not making any sense."

That was a lie. Crowley understood exactly what Aziraphale was trying to say. He'd had similar thoughts himself. He'd always had thoughts like that, always questioned, always had more doubt than faith. And he'd Fallen because of it.

He couldn't bear the idea of a similar fate for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was too good, too loving. It would destroy who he was to Fall. He was, as Crowley had affectionately told him, enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, not some stuck up puritanical asshole or jobsworth jackass or brainless cherub or, like Gabriel, a smug prick. Aziraphale wasn't meant to prance around Heaven simpering about celestial harmony or being the kind of merciless scumbag that made humans turn from religion without regret. But he wasn't meant for the bleakness of Hell either.

"I'm tired," Aziraphale announced. "I'm tired of trying to be good. I'm tired of trying to care about the ineffable plan. I'd rather Fall than try and pretend God cares about humanity except as a way to stroke Her ego."

"That's blasphemy!"

"I know." Aziraphale spread his hands. "So what? I'll Fall?" He threw himself to his knees dramatically.

"You mustn't Fall." Crowley stood, helpless.

Time stopped. There was no traffic noise outside. The second hand on the antique wall clock stayed in place. Aziraphale was frozen. Crowley thought he'd caused the lull in desperation but no. There was a warmth, a golden glow filling the shop.

"Crowley."

He didn't turn, wasn't sure where to look. His emotions swirled, fear and anger and relief and hope.

"Mother," he said, his voice strangled.

"He will not Fall," She said.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief, though this made way for anger to rise to the forefront of his own emotional storm.

"Good. He doesn't deserve it. He's served you faithfully. But he did question you. Just as I did! I dared to question you and you cast me out!" Millennia of pain demanded to be heard; Crowley's jet black wings sprouted, his eyes glowing as red-streaked tears welled up.

"That was then. That was you. This is now and it is Aziraphale."

"You love him! And you should! He deserves love! But why is he more deserving than me?" Crowley spun around, his fear of being burnt into oblivion by Holy Light overpowered by his rage. There was no corporation for him to address, only the warm light.

"My child. You are deserving. I have never stopped loving you."

"Bullshit!" Crowley expected to be punished for that, was willing to accept it. But no divine retribution lashed out at him.

"I do not lie. Perhaps you will behave better if Aziraphale is here with you."

Time did not move but Aziraphale did. He gasped as he felt Her presence. "Oh. Oh, are you here to cast me out? I deserve it!" His wings folded themselves away, vanishing from sight, his aura too fading into invisibility.

"No, you don't," Crowley snapped.

"And you did?" She asked. "Do you think that?"

"I dared to ask questions," he said. "I couldn't be obedient enough. I didn't think that was a sin but you did."

Aziraphale got to his feet, moved to stand near Crowley.

"Crowley," he said, urging him to be quiet or at least respectful. Crowley was not in the mood.

"Yes, you asked questions," She said. "And you sided with those who hated me. But most importantly you chose your path. And because I love you, I let you choose. You have always had free will, and more than that, you have imagination. You felt Heaven's constraints chafing at you and you sought more. More experiences, more challenges, more pleasures, more uncertainty. You were meant for Earth, not Heaven. As were you, Aziraphale."

Crowley tipped his head. "You could have sent me to Earth instead of Hell."

"My plan is ineffable."

"That is such a cop-out."

Aziraphale cleared his throat to draw attention away from Crowley. "It's true that I love Earth, even with all the pain that accompanies its pleasures. I love it more than Heaven, so. I too deserve to Fall."

God did not sigh. But there was a ripple through the store that amounted to much the same thing.

"Aziraphale. You will not Fall. You will remain on earth. You have purpose here. I say this to you; you will be a force for love in this world and bring healing and hope to many. Your love of earthly pleasures will inform the future of all. And you will watch over Crowley and honour the love you have for him as one of the foremost expressions of your nature as a guardian of this world."

Aziraphale blinked a few times. "Yes," he said shakily. "I shall."

"Crowley."

"You're going to give me orders?" Crowley asked but there was no cockiness left in him, shaken to the core by God acknowledging the bond he and Aziraphale had.

"You will not rise. You will remain on earth. You have purpose here too. You will continue to explore the limits and consequences of free will and bring debate and understanding to many. Your desire to be better than a demon will inform the future of all. And you will watch over Aziraphale and honour the love you have for him, because you have been doing so since the moment you met him and you could not do otherwise even if I ordered it."

Crowley nodded, lost for words. Aziraphale clasped his hand and they stood, silent, united.

"I love you both my children. I always have and always will. You are in your own ways, doing My work. This will not be the last time we speak, though we shall not speak again for a while." A while in divine terms could be a week or a couple of millennia. There would be no drawing any further detail from Her however.

"Be at peace," She said, and the light left the room. The second hand moved, traffic noise filled the background.

Crowley squeezed at Aziraphale's hand until his grip became painful and Aziraphale winced, Crowley releasing him.

"Sorry."

"It's all right," Aziraphale said. "Are you? All right?"

Crowley wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "She said She loved me."

"Yes."

Crowley didn't have the words to explain. He needed time to think, to process all that he'd been told. Right now however he wanted a drink.

As if he'd read Crowley's mind, Aziraphale said, "Why don't I get us a nice glass of wine?"

Crowley nodded. "You're not sad anymore? Just like that?"

"She said She loved us both. That I'm not to be punished for my doubts. That I'm here to make the world better when I see injustice. That we can affect the future! And She said we belonged together!"

"She didn't say that exactly."

"Oh, Crowley!" Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley's shoulders. "She ordered me to honour my love for you. She told you to keep loving me! We're practically married! Our union is, if you'll excuse the use of the word, blessed! By the Almighty Herself!"

This too was something Crowley needed to process. So he merely nodded.

"What can I have to be sad about?" Aziraphale continued. "With you at my side I can bear the world's troubles. We can work together. I will offer healing and comfort and leave the punishing to you, as you said I should. I should have listened to you."

"Yes," Crowley said, the only word he could manage.

"And I'm sorry I was so rude to you. I was just so angry and you didn't deserve my wrath."

"It's okay."

"Are you angry with me?" Aziraphale asked, his enthusiasm deflating and Crowley hated to see the bright look in his eyes dim.

Crowley shook his head. He gestured, vaguely, trying to express how overwhelmed he was. "S'just a lot."

"I know. But She said we're supposed to be together," Aziraphale repeated. "Aren't you in the least bit pleased about that?"

"Of course." It was more than he'd ever hoped for. It was almost too much. "I just need a minute. And a drink."

This prompted Aziraphale to continue on his errand. "Coming right up." He snapped his fingers, righting the table and replacing the scattered books as he went past.

Crowley sat on the sofa, deep in thought.

He was loved. Truly and completely. By God. By Aziraphale.

When Aziraphale returned with the wine he was chattering mindlessly about the vintage, placing the tray with two glasses and an open bottle on a nearby table. The chatter stopped when he saw fresh tears on Crowley's face.

He sat alongside Crowley and put one arm around him. Crowley shifted position, pressing his head into Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale held him while he wept, tears for all the years he'd spent mired in self-doubt and self-hatred, feeling unloved and undeserving. And tears of relief, and hope, and happiness.

Aziraphale said nothing, let his love be felt in his embrace and the way he stroked at Crowley's hair, rubbing his back in small circles.

Many minutes later Crowley drew back. Before he could resort to his sleeve again, Aziraphale held out a cloth handkerchief.

"Always so refined," Crowley said, wiping at his face and giving a weak smile.

"I have standards," Aziraphale agreed.

Aziraphale poured the wine and they sipped at it, falling into inconsequential chatter, utterly content.

There would be long discussions later, mulling over the day's events and what they meant. For now however, this comfortable companionship, borne of centuries of undeclared love and acts of service, was all they needed.


End file.
